


New Beginnings

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Friends to Enemies, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Past Character Death, Political Alliances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: The Nekoma and Fukurodani covens have been at war for 30 years. When new coven leader Akaashi Keiji decides to put a stop to it, he calls a summit to sign a peace treaty between the warring parties.Unfortunately, the coven leader of Nekoma is Kozume Kenma, an old friend with whom Keiji has complicated and painful history.In order for peace to be made, he must first make peace with Kenma.





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remnantmachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remnantmachine/gifts).



> This fic was commissioned by my dear friend, Rem. It took me a lot longer to complete than I thought it would, and I apologize 100x for that. You have been a bright spot in my life for nearly two years now, and I'm forever blessed to have you in my life.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! (despite the pain)
> 
> (( **WARNING:** I'm gonna be straight and tell ya'll that Bokuto and Kuroo are deceased in this fic. They are mentioned often and with love, but they are quite dead. They died prior to the events of this fic (30 years prior, in fact), but the circumstances of their deaths are described briefly in-fic. If this is something that will greatly upset you, _please_ do not read.))

 

 

 

we cannot start over,  
but we can begin now,  
and make a new beginning

\--zig ziglar

* * *

 

 

 

The Sunshine Resort is located in the mountains of Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan. During the day, it hosts only the most elite clientele: businessmen on vacation with their girlfriends, wives, or mistresses; senators from around the globe; princes and princesses and their entourage; the wealthiest of the wealthy. With hot baths, koi ponds, beautiful gardens with cobblestone pathways, gourmet food with the option for room service, invisible staff that clean the rooms while the customers enjoy a range of activities from massages to yoga to hiking to touring the local shrines, the Sunshine Resort is a must-visit for anyone with the money to spend.

Beneath the resort, there’s a completely different world.

Dug deep into the rock of the mountain are buildings created specifically for a clientele less inclined to experience the sunshine the resort is named for. Almost a perfect replica for the area above, the underground resort is not often frequented. Only the most important of gatherings are held there, and it is not open to the general population.

But today, the rooms are occupied, and the staff is working overtime to accommodate the representative groups of six of Japan’s vampire covens.

It is the day of the peace treaty.

Akaashi Keiji stands beneath the lights installed in the ceiling of the cave to mimic sunlight, twisting his fingers together, as he looks across the garden to the building where the summit will be held. It has glass walls, and he can see straight into the conference room, with it’s large wooden table and eighteen plush leather seats.

Thirty years.

It’s been thirty years since the war started between Fukurodani and Nekoma. Today, he will finally end it.

His fingers tremble.

“There you are.”

Turning to the side, he relaxes slightly at the sight of his advisor and close friend, Shirofuku Yukie. He smiles faintly, giving her a nod.

“Have you settled in okay?” he asks.

Yukie nods. “Can you believe how fancy this place is? It’s even nicer than your place, and that’s saying a lot!”

Keiji nods. “It was a good choice for neutral territory. We will have to remember to thank Oikawa Tooru for his suggestion.”

“Will he be here for the summit?”

Keiji shakes his head. “It’s my understanding he’s vacationing with his partners. He sent a proxy.” He squints briefly, trying to remember the name. “Ah, I think it’s Kindaichi Yuutarou and his bodyguard Kunimi Akira.”

Yukie blinks, surprised. “A bodyguard? Does he think the summit will turn violent?”

Keiji purses his lips. “I suppose he’d rather be safe than sorry.”

He glances at the conference building before turning away completely to walk back down the pathway toward the building that houses the rooms he and Yukie were given.

His room has a balcony that overlooks one of the onsen. He can see several members of the various covens gathered here relaxing in the water, talking amongst themselves. The lanterns hanging from poles around the hot spring cast golden light on the water, and each movement of the vampires below makes the light dance.

_Koutarou would have loved this place._

Keiji’s lips twitch in a faint smile, at the thought. He waits for the inevitable pain to squeeze around his chest, but all he feels is a dull ache of longing.

_That’s . . . progress, I suppose._

The onsen looks very inviting, so he makes his way out of the room, feeling the need to relax before the summit. He knows what’s at stake, how important this meeting is, and he can’t help but feel like one mistake will cost his coven another thirty years of war and death.

He’s so caught up in his musings that he doesn’t realize someone is in front of him until he nearly runs them over. He steps back, apologizing with a slight bow. When he lifts his head, his throat closes, as panic chills his skin.

Kozume Kenma, leader of the Nekoma coven, stands before him. His large golden eyes are cold as ice, and on his left cheek, directly beneath the far corner of his eye, is a red mark in the shape of a teardrop. Keiji stares at it, every limb stiff.

_The mark of mourning? After three decades?_

Keiji himself wore that mark. It took him five years before he could bear to go without it, without the reminder of what he lost.

Kozume watches him, studying him, and Keiji resists the urge to apologize, again. He doesn’t know what to say. He knew he would find himself in the same room as Kozume eventually, but he thought he’d have more time to prepare himself.

“Akaashi,” Kozume says in a detached voice.

Keiji nods, slightly. “Kozume.”

Kozume breaks eye contact first. He steps to the side, skirting around Keiji before continuing down the hallway. Keiji doesn’t turn around. He stares at the spot Kozume vacated, finding it difficult to move. He doesn’t want to be caught standing like a statue in the middle of the hall, however, so eventually he manages to walk forward once more.

As he does, he can hear his sire’s voice in his head, telling him of his plans for Nekoma.

_“I will take what Kozume loves most. They’ll be completely vulnerable to our attack.”_

Keiji remembers how horrified he felt, how he’d protested and tried to convince his sire that Fukurodani did not need to wage war against Nekoma. But his sire wanted to expand his kingdom and would not listen.

Instead, he punished Keiji for his insolence.

“Akaashi-san?”

Keiji pauses, looking to his left. Yukie stands in the doorway of her room, watching him.

“You look like you’re going to be sick,” she says, never one to mince words.

Keiji purses his lips. “I just ran into Kozume-san,” he admits.

Yukie’s eyes widen. “How did that go?”

Keiji looks away. “This may have been a mistake. I should have sent Konoha.”

“Hey,” Yukie says, stepping forward. She lays a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “What happened back then wasn’t your fault.”

“He told me his plan. I didn’t stop him.”

Yukie shakes her head. “You did what you could. And you paid for it.”

“I’m not sure Kozume will see it that way. For all he knows, I was complicit.”

Yukie lifts her chin. “Then you will have to convince him that you weren’t. You’re a good man, Akaashi-san. And a good leader.”

Keiji sighs. “I try to be.”

“Akaashi-san . . .”

He takes a step back, bowing slightly. “Thank you for your words. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turns and heads back toward his room, forgoing the trip to the onsen. The image of Kozume’s face rises unbidden. The last time he saw that face . . .

How long has it been? Fifty years? Sixty? The timeline blurs in his mind.

They were friends, back then. Before their covens became rivals. Before his sire became obsessed with power. He remembers countless nights beneath the stars, he and Kozume enjoying each other’s company, whether in silence or in quiet conversation. It was a peaceful friendship, full of mutual respect. And if Keiji began to feel something deeper after a time . . .

He never said anything.

And then his sire took Fukurodani and broke away from the coven community, determined to grow powerful enough to overthrow the rest and place them under his rule. Keiji was forbidden to visit Kozume. Decades passed.

Now he’s here; they’re under the same roof after all these years.

_And I’m hiding from him like a coward._

He supposes it’s better to keep his distance than do anything that might upset the summit. They’re here to sign a peace treaty. They don’t need to be friends to do that.

Still, his chest aches where his heart once beat, and he spends a restless day in bed.

 

 

***

 

 

“We are gathered here in the sight of these witnesses to broker peace between Fukurodani and Nekoma after thirty years of war.” Futakuchi Kenji, leader of the Datekou coven, stands at the far end of the table, looking out over those gathered in the room. His solemn expression shifts, as a faint smirk quirks his lips. “And may I say, off the record, fucking finally.”

Kozume sits stiffly to Futakuchi’s right, refusing to look at Keiji, who sits on his left. Kozume’s advisor, a short man with sandy hair, stands behind him. He scoffs at Futakuchi’s flippancy.

“We didn’t start this war,” he says with a scowl. “If anyone is to blame for this, it’s Fukurodani.”

Keiji says nothing, even as all eyes turn to him, save Kozume’s. He squares his jaw, knowing it’s the truth but refusing to grovel for forgiveness.

“That is why I am here,” he says calmly. “To set things right.”

“We’re not here to play the blame game,” Futakuchi says, shaking his head. He gestures to the short stack of papers in front of him. “I have the treaty here. It states the conditions of the act in detail. All land seized by Fukurodani during the war will be returned to Nekoma, and vice versa. Trade routes will be reopened, and each coven will pay for reparations to—”

“Wait, why do _we_ have to pay reparations?” the Nekoma advisor asks sharply. “If Fukurodani started this war, they should pay for it. Completely.”

Keiji bites back a sharp reply. “There have been losses on both sides,” he says, fingers twisting over each other in his lap. Kozume still won’t look at him. “Nekoma has ravaged just as many homes as Fukurodani and taken many of our resources. We cannot afford to pay for both our reconstruction and yours.”

“We wouldn’t have _had_ to destroy your territories if you hadn’t attacked us in the first place!” The vampire steps forward, rage written over his features, as his fangs elongate.

Beside Keiji, Yukie shifts forward, a low warning hiss whistling through her own fangs.

“Yaku,” Kozume murmurs, turning toward his advisor.

“Kenma,” Yaku says, leaning close to his leader and startling Keiji with his familiarity. “This is outrageous. They can’t demand this of us. Haven’t we suffered enough?”

Kozume glances over at Futakuchi. “Is there anything else?” he asks flatly.

Futakuchi shuffles through the papers. “Uh, just an agreement to remain at peace indefinitely, to share information and have complete transparency. Oh, and if any of your members commits an act of violence toward the other coven’s members they are to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of your respective laws.”

“I don’t believe any of this is unreasonable,” Keiji says carefully, watching Kozume’s expression.

Kozume doesn’t meet his gaze but keeps his eyes on Futakuchi. “I agree to all terms except the reparations. Yaku is right. We can’t be held accountable for a war we didn’t start.”

“But your people still committed acts of war against us,” Keiji says, trying to not let his frustration show.

“Nothing as terrible as what yours did to us.”

“You’ve razed entire towns!”

“You murdered my husband!”

The entire table grows silent. Keiji curls his hands into fists, fighting the lump in his throat. Kozume’s looking at him now, his eyes cold. The red teardrop by his eye is bright against his pale skin. Keiji stares at it, and his stomach twists sharply.

“That wasn’t my doing,” he says, lowering his voice. “I tried to stop him.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.” Kozume stands abruptly. “I need to consider these terms further.” Without another word, he leaves the room, Yaku following at his heels.

Futakuchi sighs. “That could’ve gone better.”

Yukie reaches to touch Keiji’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Keiji stares at the seat Kozume just vacated, his mouth dry.

_Does he not know? Does he truly have no idea what I sacrificed trying to save him this pain?_

“I guess . . . we’ll recess until tomorrow?” Futakuchi looks around the room.

Keiji stands slowly, bowing to him. “I apologize. Thank you for your patience.”

Futakuchi looks surprised. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.”

Keiji strides out of the room, his limbs feeling stiff. Yukie hurries after him. She grabs his wrist to pull him to a stop.

“Akaashi-san—”

“I’m fine.” Keiji brushes her off, regaining his composure.

“No, you’re not.” Yukie tilts her head, studying his expression. “I think you need to talk to him.”

Keiji fights an incredulous snort, catching it in his tightening throat. “He won’t listen to me.”

“Then make him listen. He needs to know the whole story.”

Keiji knows she’s right. But the thought of being alone with Kozume makes his skin crawl. It’s a conversation long overdue, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready.

But his coven is depending on him to sign this treaty. To end this war.

Sometimes to lead effectively, you need to do things you don’t want to. You need to do things that are painful.

“Okay,” he says with a slight nod.

_Okay._

 

 

***

 

 

The lights dim, as morning dawns. As the vampires gathered start to turn in for the day, Keiji starts toward the onsen. He figures he’ll have a better chance at not running into anyone, this way. He could use the solitude to think, as well. Consider his options and choose the best course of action.

Nekoma is not completely innocent in this war. They retaliated with force and a ferocity that surprised most of the other covens. Keiji knows why. They were angry. They were hurt.

Kozume was hurt.

Asking for reparations doesn’t seem unfair, to Keiji. But he understands Kozume’s point of view, as well. But he isn’t sure Fukurodani will take no for an answer. They’re hurting too, now. And they need help restoring their homes just as much as Nekoma does.

But how does he convince Kozume?

He ponders this dilemma, as he undresses in the locker room. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps outside and makes his way toward the spring in front of him.

He stops short, when he realizes it’s occupied. There’s steam rising from the spring, but it’s not enough to complete obscure the figure sitting with its back against a rock, profile to Keiji.

“Kozume.”

Kozume turns to look at him, and his eyes narrow slowly. Keiji knows it’d be prudent to leave, but he remembers Yukie’s words and steps forward, instead.

“May we discuss what happened earlier?”

Kozume looks away. “No.”

Keiji sighs. Gathering his courage, he approaches the spring, settling down on the edge and allowing his legs to slip into the water. The heat warms his skin, and the sensation travels up his skin. It almost feels as though he’s human, again. He closes his eyes a moment, relishing the warmth.

“I didn’t say you could join me.” Kozume’s voice is stiff.

Keiji fights a smirk. “Anyone is allowed at the onsen.”

“I don’t _want_ you here.”

Keiji’s smirk disappears, as his chest tightens. He opens his eyes, looking through the steam to where Kozume sits, his chin tilted toward his bare chest.

“You have every right to be angry,” Keiji starts carefully. “What my sire did to you . . . it’s unforgiveable. But you don’t know the full story.”

“I know you didn’t stop him. I know you were his right hand man, and you _let_ him—” Kozume stops abruptly, fighting for composure.

Keiji’s chest aches. He curls his fingers around the rock beneath him, leaning forward slightly. “Kenma, I did everything in my power to—”

“ _Don’t_.”

Keiji cuts himself off, surprised at the pain in Kozume’s voice. The pain he’s allowing Keiji to hear.

“Don’t call me that,” Kozume says after a moment, his tone calm and stiff once more. “We’re not friends.”

 _We used to be,_ Keiji thinks miserably, as he watches Kozume rise from the water. He adverts his eyes and listens to the soft patter of Kozume’s wet feet, as he makes his way around the spring’s far side, heading for the door.

Keiji stands. “Kozume, please. Please let me explain—”

But Kozume walks back inside without another glance.

Keiji curls his hands into fists, fighting an undignified scream of frustration. He knows attempting to mend the rift between them is probably futile, but Kozume needs to know what happened. He needs to understand why Keiji was powerless to stop it.

He glances toward the spring, but the mood to indulge in its warmth has vanished. He simply wishes to go to bed, now.

So he does.

 

 

***

 

 

“You look terrible,” Yukie informs him, as he greets her at breakfast.

Keiji sits beside her, nursing a mug of warm O-Negative in his hand.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Nightmares?”

Keiji nods tiredly. Yukie clucks sympathetically and takes a sip of her own mug. Around them, various members of the six covens sit with their mugs of blood and converse quietly. Keiji notes that neither Kozume nor Yaku are present.

“Have you heard anything about today’s meeting?” he asks Yukie, sipping at his blood before it gets cold.

Yukie shakes her head. “Nothing new. As far as I know, Nekoma is still contesting the reparation clause.”

Keiji rests his chin in his hand. “Normally I would just let them have it in order to secure peace. But we literally cannot afford to pay reparations and take care of our own rebuilding. We’re already in debt. I cannot let us go completely bankrupt.”

Yukie watches him. “Have you spoken to Kozume, yet?”

Keiji grimaces. “I tried. He wants nothing to do with me.”

Yukie places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Perhaps there’s another way to deal with this. Maybe Aoba Johsai or Karasuno will lend us money to help pay for everything.”

Keiji shakes his head. “We already owe Aoba Johsai more than we can afford to pay them right now. I don’t want to dig that hole any deeper than I have to.”

“The leader of Karasuno seems like a just, fair man. Perhaps he will allow for some sort of trade.”

“A trade for what? We have no resources, Yukie. And only a fool would accept a promise of later payment.”

Yukie throws up her hands. “Now you’re just being difficult. Sometimes you need to grovel a little in order to get what you want. Throw yourself at Kozume’s mercy. Maybe there’s something he wants more than he minds paying reparations.”

Keiji’s lips twist in irony. “Like my ashes in a wooden box?”

Yukie gives him a flat look. “He doesn’t hate you that much.”

Keiji thinks that’s debatable. He falls silent, drinking his blood and contemplating his options. Fukurodani used to be a wealthy coven. A powerful coven. That was thanks to Keiji’s sire, who knew how to get what he wanted through manipulation and threats. The war depleted them of nearly everything. By the time Keiji’s sire was assassinated, Keiji knew they were on the losing end of the war.

When he heard Nekoma had requested aide from Karasuno, he reached out to Kozume with his request for peace, knowing Fukurodani wouldn’t survive.

He isn’t sure why Kozume agreed to the summit. Perhaps he’s grown as tired of the war as Keiji has.

_So why is he being so difficult? Is this simply because I’m here? Would he have acted this way if Konoha were here in my stead?_

Is this truly about the money? Or is Kozume simply reacting to Keiji’s presence? The latter seems rather childish, but Kozume has always been the more immature of the two of them. Plus, Keiji knows how tightly he clings to grudges.

“I’ll try speaking to him again,” he says with a sigh. “Before the next meeting.”

Yukie nods. “Better hurry, then. It’s scheduled for midnight.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yaku bars his way to Kozume’s room. For as short a man as he is, he cuts an imposing figure, his brow drawn over his nose, his stance wide, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I just need to speak with him,” Keiji says, calling upon all his patience.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Yaku says flatly.

Keiji purses his lips. “You know as well as I do that we have to come to some sort of agreement. This war cannot go on.”

“Take it up with him at the meeting.”

Keiji contemplates simply bowling the man over and forcing his way through. But he knows that will hardly endear him to Kozume, or Yaku. He has to keep this diplomatic.

“Kozume?” he calls into the room. “Kozume, I know you’re in there. Please talk to me.”

There’s no response, and Yaku looks to be on the verge of gloating. But if Kozume can be stubborn, so can Keiji.

“I’m going to stand here until you talk to me.”

“We’ll call security,” Yaku counters.

Keiji frowns. “I’ll appeal to Futakuchi for a private meeting.”

“Kenma will refuse to attend.”

“Kozume,” Keiji gives up talking to Yaku. “I tried to warn you!”

Kozume suddenly appears behind Yaku, gripping the edge of the door.

“When?” he demands, his eyes burning like two suns straight into Keiji’s.

Keiji’s fingers twist together. He hides them behind his back. “As soon as he told me. I tried to convince him then to not do it, but he wouldn’t listen. By that time he was paranoid. He screened all our calls and emails. I’m pretty sure he had the whole palace bugged. I . . . I tried to send you a letter. It was intercepted. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

Kozume continues staring at him. Yaku scoffs.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” he asks, not dropping his defensive posture.

“I . . . I still have the letter.”

“Where?”

Keiji grimaces inwardly. “In Fukurodani.”

“How convenient.”

“I’ll send someone to retrieve it,” Keiji says earnestly, looking past Yaku into Kozume’s face. “Please. You trusted me once . . .”

“And look where that got him!” Yaku exclaims.

Keiji keeps his gaze on Kozume. “I want this peace treaty to work,” he says. “But more importantly . . . I’d like my best friend back.”

Kozume looks away. Keiji braves a step forward. “You know that you have enough allies to help pay the reparations. I know that you’re making things difficult for me, because you think I didn’t do everything I could to save Kuroo-san.”

Kozume flinches at the name. It’s barely perceptible, but it’s there. The red teardrop on his face stares back at Keiji, causing his chest to ache.

“But that’s not true,” Keiji continues. “I did do everything. And I . . . I paid for it.”

Kozume glances sidelong at him. “How?” he asks.

Keiji knew this moment would come, but his fingers still tighten around themselves reflexively, as he stiffens. He glances down the hall, before turning back to Yaku.

“Can I come in?” he asks, as politely as he can.

Yaku turns to Kozume. After a couple seconds, Kozume nods, slightly.

Yaku steps aside, allowing Keiji to enter. Kozume makes his way over to the couch in the center of the suite, sitting down. Yaku hovers by the door, keeping an eye on Keiji, as he walks over to sit in one of the chairs beside the couch.

Reaching into his pocket, Keiji pulls out his wallet. Tucked inside one of the inner pockets is a photograph. He pulls this out and holds it out to Kozume.

“His name was Bokuto Koutarou,” he says, and his throat threatens to close. He swallows past the lump forming, pushing forward. “He was human. I met him by chance one night at a bar. He . . . intrigued me. He wasn’t afraid of what I was. He was fascinated, actually. We grew . . . quite close.”

Kozume doesn’t take the photo. He stares at it a moment before looking up at Keiji. He studies him.

“You loved him,” he surmises, finally.

Keiji nods, slipping the photo back into his wallet. “Very much so. We were together for five years, before my sire decided he wanted to take over the rest of the covens. When I . . . when my letter was intercepted, my sire brought me to his throne room.” Keiji swallows again, his voice threatening to crack. He looks down at his fingers, twisting together tighter and tighter.

“Koutarou was there. He was bound. Beaten. My sire . . . he told me that this is what happens to those who defy him.”

Keiji closes his eyes. It feels as though his ribs are collapsing into his lungs and heart, and even though he doesn’t need those anymore, the pain is excruciating. He doesn’t want to relive this day. He doesn’t like thinking about it.

But Kozume has to know.

“He killed him. My sire killed Koutarou right in front of me. It happened so quickly, I-I . . . I could do nothing but stand there.”

Keiji opens his eyes slowly, keeping his gaze on his fingers. “He told me then that Kuroo-san was dead, as well. That his war had started, and I could either step aside or join him.”

He lifts his gaze, fighting the bloody tears that have gathered in the corners of his eyes. “I did not join him. I went into mourning. I stood by and let everything happen without trying to defy him again. Perhaps that was wrong of me. But I could barely get myself to eat or sleep.”

Kozume’s expression hasn’t changed, though his eyes are wide. He doesn’t appear hostile, for once, and from the door, Yaku whistles softly.

“That’s a good sob story,” he says. “But again, how do we know it’s true?”

Kozume leans back. “I don’t think you’re lying, but why didn’t you tell me before?”

Keiji’s lips twist. “Would you have listened to me?”

Kozume shrugs. “I suppose not.”

“I don’t blame you for the way you reacted,” Keiji says, slipping his wallet into his pocket and leaning forward slightly. “But you have to agree that it’s gone on long enough. You had your revenge. My sire is dead. Please, let us have peace again.”

He holds out his hand and waits. Kozume looks down at it. Keiji tells himself to not push. He’s said what he needed to. The rest is up to Kozume.

Slowly, he places his hand in Keiji’s. It’s smaller than Keiji’s, though his fingers are slender, like his own. Keiji curls his fingers around it, holding it firmly. He remembers those nights beneath the stars, when their hands would brush on top of the grass, when their pinkies would sometimes interlock, just slightly.

“I will sign your treaty,” Kozume says, his voice cool and detached. “But your sire started this war. I still do not believe we should pay reparations.”

Keiji hesitates. “Kozume-san, you know how much damage your armies caused.”

“In retaliation for a direct attack on our territory.”

“At least concede to partial payment.”

Kozume purses his lips. “I’ll consider it.”

He stands, pulling his hand away from Keiji’s. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Keiji realizes that’s his cue to go. He stands, as well, but pauses in front of Kozume. “I’ve missed you,” he admits quietly. “I formed close bonds with vampires in my coven who stood by me after Koutarou’s death. But I regret not being able to contact you. I wish we could have comforted each other in our grief.”

“I have people of my own,” Kozume says stiffly, not meeting his gaze.

Keiji reaches for the teardrop beneath Kozume’s eye. “Yet you still wear this.” He brushes his thumb against the stain lightly.

Kozume glances at him with a frown. “I will not forget about him.”

“You don’t have to forget about him in order to go on living,” Keiji says gently. He knows how difficult it is to move on. It feels like betrayal, sometimes. How can he be content if he doesn’t have Koutarou by his side?

But time heals all wounds, if you let it. And he knows Koutarou wouldn’t want him living a half-life, a faded existence.

He doubts Kuroo Tetsurou would want Kozume to continue suffering after all these years, either.

He wonders if Kozume feels the same.

 

 

***

 

 

“I hereby call the second night of the summit to order. For the record, those present are Kozume Kenma and Yaku Morisuke from Nekoma; Akaashi Keiji and Shirofuku Yukie from Fukurodani; Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi from Karasuno; Kindaichi Yuutarou and Kunimi Akira from Aoba Johsai, and myself, Futakuchi Kenji, and Aone Takanobu from Datekou. Representatives from Shiratorizawa and Johzenji declined their invitations to join us.”

Futakuchi claps his hands together. “Okay! Now that we’ve got that boring legal stuff out of the way, let’s get to business.” He turns to Kozume. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Kozume stands. “I will agree to the reparations, however we will only take responsibility for half the amount stated.”

Keiji supposes that’s as good as he’s going to get. He stands as well and bows slightly. “We will accept these terms.”

Kozume glances at him briefly, before turning toward Futakuchi. The vampire scribbles something down on one of the pages in front of him, before he nods and takes a step back.

“If each of you could step forward and place your initials at the bottom of each document and then print and sign your full names on the last page.”

Kozume steps forward first, taking the pen from Futakuchi. As he bends over the papers, something behind him catches Keiji’s attention.

Outside the wall of glass behind Kozume, a figure stands on the roof of one of the buildings. Keiji frowns, finding this odd. It’s only when he sees the figure’s arms lift that he realizes what’s happening.

“Get down!” he shouts, leaping forward and tackling Kozume to the floor, just as the glass wall behind him shatters.

A loud _THUNK_ sounds behind him, and as Futakuchi calls for security, Keiji lifts his head to see what happened.

A massive wooden arrow protrudes from the table, directly in the center of the papers over which Kozume had just been leaning. Not many things can kill a vampire, but any type of wood through the heart will. Keiji turns back to look down at Kozume beneath him.

“This wasn’t my doing,” he says, hoping that Kozume believes him.

Kozume stares back at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t have time to respond before someone grabs Keiji by the collar of his shirt and yanks him off Kozume.

Yaku releases him in order to help Kozume to his feet. Keiji looks around the room. A subdued form of chaos has ensued. Everyone is on their feet, discussing the incident amongst themselves in quick, urgent tones. Aone from Datekou stares at the broken glass with an intense, thoughtful expression. Futakuchi finishes with the security guards at the door, before returning to the center of the room.

He observes the shaft of the arrow sticking through the document and sighs.

“Great, now I have to type it all up again.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?! Someone just tried to kill Kenma!” Yaku exclaims, holding tight to the arm of his leader.

"I’ve informed the security guards, and they’re looking into it immediately.”

“I didn’t order this,” Keiji says, feeling sick to his stomach. “I swear.”

Yaku regards him suspiciously but doesn’t argue. Futakuchi turns to him. “While I type up another treaty and the guards look into this attack, you should probably keep your leader in his room. I’ll send Aone down there for extra security, if you’d like.”

“No,” Kozume says, shaking his head.

Yaku turns to him, his expression pained. “Kenma . . .”

“It was just one attacker. If he comes after me again, we can handle it.”

Yaku huffs in frustration, but Kenma’s already turning to leave. Keiji watches them go, fingers twisting together. Futakuchi observes him.

“It may not be one of yours, but it’s someone who wants this war to continue,” the vampire says, pointedly. “Are you sure everyone in Fukurodani is completely loyal to you?”

Keiji shakes his head. “I’ve already considered that,” he admits, trying to rid himself of the mental image of Kenma’s face the second he knocked him to the ground. The memory of the terror in his eyes twists into Keiji’s chest like a knife.

_Was he afraid for his life? Or was he afraid of me?_

Yukie appears at his side, touching his arm lightly. “I’ll get in contact with Konoha. Maybe he knows of some dissenters in the coven.”

Keiji nods, grateful.

“I was expecting this summit to be boring,” Futakuchi says with a faint grin. “At the risk of sounding callous, I’m looking forward to a little investigation.”

Keiji waves dismissively. “Do what you must and let me know what you find.”

Futakuchi nods, turning to the rest of those gathered. “So, obviously we’re going to need to put a hold on things, again. But if you could keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, that’d be greatly appreciated! You can report to me directly, or to Aone. Or, you know, the resorts’ security. But keep me in the loop!”

He turns to Aone. “Let’s go catch a criminal.”

As the rest of the vampires disperse, Keiji turns to Yukie. “My sire struck fear into a lot of vampire hearts, but he also had followers who thought his cause was just. I didn’t receive any opposition when I took his place, but that may have been because they expected me to follow in his footsteps. Tell Konoha to search among my sire’s things. I’m sure he kept a list somewhere of those he knew he could trust.”

Yukie nods. “What about you?”

Keiji hesitates. “I’m going to Kozume.”

Yukie gives his elbow a squeeze. “Good luck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yaku doesn’t contest him, this time. He allows Keiji into the room, but regards him suspiciously all the same.

“I swear, I had nothing to do with the attack,” he says.

“I suppose I believe you,” Yaku says. “I figure, if you wanted Kenma dead, you wouldn’t have knocked him out of the way.”

“But you still don’t trust me,” Keiji surmises.

Yaku shakes his head. “Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not.”

He leads Keiji to the bedroom, where Kozume sits cross-legged on the bed, a handheld gaming device in his hands. The curtains are drawn, casting the room in dark shadow. The only light in the room emanates from the doorway, and Kozume’s PSP. The blue light of the screen flickers across his features, creating an eerie glow.

“You still play those?” Keiji asks, as he steps into the room.

Kozume doesn’t lift his head. “Yes.”

Yaku remains outside the door. “I’m going to stay out here,” he says. “Keep an eye on things. Kenma, you let me know if you want me to kick him out.”

“Okay.”

Satisfied, Yaku disappears, presumably to stand guard by the door. Keiji looks around the room. There’s a second bed beside the one on which Kozume sits. Keiji sits on the edge of it, facing Kozume.

“Can we talk?”

“. . . Maybe.”

Keiji sighs. “Do you still hate me?”

Kozume doesn’t answer for a moment, his thumbs pressing the buttons of his PSP rapidly. “I never . . . hated you,” he admits, finally.

“But I hurt you.”

Kozume bites his lip gently.

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“I know that. Now.”

“So, can we start over? Do you think we can put this behind us?”

Kozume doesn’t respond. Gathering his courage, Keiji moves to the other bed, sitting down beside Kozume. The other doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t look at him. Keiji reaches out, hesitantly, and tucks Kozume’s hair behind his ear, revealing the teardrop on his cheekbone.

“Kuroo-san must have been a great man if you loved him so ferociously,” he observes softly.

Kozume swallows hard. “Yes,” he murmurs.

“Kozume, I . . .” Keiji lowers his hand into his lap, gripping his fingers together. “I am so sorry for what happened. Not a day goes by that I wish I’d been able to stop it. We both lost the person we loved most because of my sire, and it makes me sick to think that I have his blood running through me. But I am not my sire, and I have no lust for power or prestige. I only want peace. I want things to go back to the way things were.”

“They can’t,” Kozume says flatly.

“I know,” Keiji murmurs. “But that won’t stop me from trying my hardest to make sure things get as close as possible. I’d like to know if we’re on the same page, with this.”

Kozume sighs. “We are,” he admits, lowering his PSP into his lap. He turns to look at Keiji with a faint frown. “I . . .” He turns his gaze away, eyes skittering to the side. “I think about you a lot, too.”

Keiji’s chest warms with something akin to hope. He inches closer on the bed, tilting his head to try and catch Kozume’s gaze. “Kozume . . . Kenma . . . you’ve always meant a great deal to me. The breaking of our friendship . . . it devastated me. I know it was my own fault. I let my fear of my sire dictate my decisions. But he’s gone now, and I . . . I yearn to be close to you, once more.”

Kozume bites his lip, keeping his face turned aside. Carefully, Keiji lifts his hand once more to cradle the side of Kozume’s face. He brushes his thumb over the teardrop on his cheekbone, before leaning forward to press his forehead against the side of Kozume’s. He closes his eyes, breathing in his scent.

“I would never ask to replace what Kuroo-san meant to you,” he admits quietly. “And you will never replace Koutarou. But I think we can help each other. If you’ll let us.”

Very lightly, Kozume leans into Keiji’s touch. When Keiji opens his eyes, he sees Kozume has closed his, and his fingers around his PSP are shaking. Gently, Keiji covers his hand with his own.

“May I call you Kenma, again?” he asks, his chest aching.

Kozume nods, once. Keiji brushes his lips against Kozume’s cheek in a feather-light touch, before pulling away.

“Thank you.”

He moves to get off the bed, despite wanting to stay, despite the ache still present inside him. Kenma sits completely still, a statue made of gold and marble. Keiji knows he shouldn’t push. When Kenma is ready, he’ll come to him.

He bows slightly. “I must return to Shirofuku to find out more about who attacked you. I promise they’ll be dealt with to the fullest extent of our laws. I will not tolerate any more attacks on your person, physical or emotional.”

Kenma’s lips twitch slightly. “Don’t die, then,” he says, lifting his PSP once more.

Keiji’s pretty sure if his heart was working, it’d be beating in overtime. He bows again, briefly, before heading out of the room quickly.

 

 

***

 

 

Futakuchi and Aone stand on either side of a kneeling vampire. He’s bound with his hands behind his back, and he glares up at Keiji with contempt.

“We found him trying to sneak into the sewer system,” Futakuchi says. “We’re assuming he came in the same way.”

Keiji stares down at the vampire, observing the clear hatred in his eyes. He knows to not take it personally. This vampire appears loyal to his sire, so clearly he’s the same brand of insane.

“Your attempt to disrupt this summit and put a stop to the signing of the peace treaty has failed,” he says calmly. “Because you did not succeed in murdering anyone, your punishment will not be as severe as it may have been otherwise. That said, you will be sent back to Fukurodani under heavy guard and be placed under arrest to stand trial. You will be locked away and unable to communicate with anyone. Do you have anything to say?”

The vampire spits at his feet. “My lord should have killed you instead of that human brat,” he sneers.

Keiji glances down at the spittle between his boots. He turns toward Futakuchi.

“Take him away,” he says.

Aone jerks the vampire to his feet and marches him out the door. Futakuchi salutes him with two fingers.

“I’ll get on that retyping thing, now. Might take me a while, though. We’ll reconvene for the signing tomorrow night.”

Keiji nods. He and Yukie leave the room together.

“Konoha got back to me about that list,” she informs him. “He’s searching the public records now to see if he can get a hit on any of the names. Once we have a photo, we’ll compare it to this guy.”

“Please thank him for me,” he says, as they reach Keiji’s room. He keeps walking, however.

“Where are you going?” Yukie asks. “The sun will be up soon.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Yukie-kun,” he says, waving over his shoulder.

He makes his way down to the onsen, thinking maybe now he can finally get that relaxation he’s been looking forward to this whole trip. Leaving his clothes in a locker, he grabs a towel and steps over to the spring. Thankfully, it’s empty this time.

Settling in the water, he relaxes against the warm rocks. Closing his eyes, he allows his arms to float beside him. The heat from the water warms him from the outside in, and he relishes the sensation.

He doesn’t remember what it feels like to be human, anymore. It’s been too many years. The memories are distant and fading with each passing decade. But here in this water, it’s like he can almost recall what it feels like to have his heart pumping warm blood through his veins.

It’s a pleasurable feeling, though not as intense as when he feeds.

He feels a disturbance in the water beside him. Lowering his chin, he opens his eyes. Through the steam, he sees a familiar head of two-toned hair, and a pair of large golden eyes peering back at him.

His throat closes. “Koz—Kenma.”

Kenma moves closer, the water rippling around him. Keiji can only make out his head and shoulders above the water, somewhat obscured by the steam until he’s directly beside him.

“They said you caught the vampire who tried to kill me,” he murmurs, his lips centimeters from the surface of the water.

Keiji nods. “Yes. We don’t know his identity yet, but he’s been sent back to Fukurodani. It appears he was working alone.”

Kenma nods absently. He settles down beside Keiji, his back against the rock. He skims his fingertips over the top of the water slowly.

“Did you mean what you said before?” he asks, eyes on his hand.

Keiji follows the movement as well, trying to ignore how Kenma’s proximity and the warmth of the water have caused his skin to break out in tiny goosebumps.

“Which time?”

Kenma wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and the air between them seems to grow heavier. At least, in Keiji’s mind it does. He wonders if he’s projecting.

“When you . . . said that I meant a lot to you.”

“Of course I meant it,” Keiji says, glancing at his face. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean. You know this.”

Kenma drops his hand into the water. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I don’t have to forget Kuro to keep living. Logically, I know this. It’s been thirty years. The pain I felt back then . . . it’s not as sharp anymore. But the thought of letting go . . .” He stops, shaking his head.

Keiji reaches for his shoulder, touching it lightly. “I know,” he says. “It feels like betrayal. I know, Kenma. But Koutarou . . . Kuroo-san . . . if they loved us as much as we know they did, they wouldn’t want us to mourn them forever. They would want us to be happy.”

“I was happy . . . with you . . . before . . .” Kenma mutters.

Keiji’s chest feels warm, and he’s not entirely certain it’s from the water. “I was happy, too,” he admits. “I always looked forward to our time together.”

Kenma closes his eyes. “They came into our room. They stabbed him while he slept beside me. I woke up to a pile of ash where my husband should be.” He shivers.

Keiji moves forward nearly on instinct. He wraps both arms around Kenma’s shoulders, pressing his forehead against the damp side of his head. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into his ear.

Kenma reaches up to curl his fingers around Keiji’s forearm that rests against his chest. “I’m sorry, too,” he says quietly. “For your loss.”

They sit quietly for a moment; the only sound the water lapping against the rocks, the fountains running behind them. Keiji nuzzles his nose deeper into Kenma’s hair behind his ear.

_This is how it should have been. We should have been able to grieve together. To take comfort in each other. He took this from us, too._

“You have me, now,” he assures Kenma, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “I won’t leave you again.”

Kenma snorts softly. “Except, you have a coven to lead, and so do I.”

Keiji smirks, faintly. “Yes, well, that was my attempt at being comforting.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And the sentiment behind it is sincere.”

“I know.”

Keiji pulls back, as Kenma’s shoulders straighten, slightly.

“After we sign the treaty, what will happen next?”

Keiji hesitates. “I assume we’ll return to our respective covens and relay the good news.”

Kenma nods absently.

“But . . . if you would like to schedule regular meetings, the way we used to . . . I would enjoy that.”

Kenma glances sidelong at him. “Exactly the way we used to?” he asks, skeptically.

Keiji grips his fingers together tightly. “I . . . admit I do have romantic intentions, this time. Is that okay?”

Kenma tilts his head to the side. “I’ll think about it.”

Keiji inclines his head, supposing that’s all he can ask for. He feels the fatigue setting in, then, as the tension from the events of the day subsides. Reaching for his towel, he moves to stand. Despite not being shy, he feels some embarrassment at the way Kenma watches him. He swiftly wraps his towel around his waist.

“I’ll retire now,” he says, bowing slightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He walks quickly back into the locker room without waiting for Kenma’s reply. Once he’s dressed and in his room, he finds himself gravitating toward the window. He looks down at the spring below, observing Kenma, as he continues to sit in the water. Resting his head against the glass, Keiji wonders if this is truly allowed.

It’s been thirty years since Koutarou’s death. Thirty years since Kuroo’s.

To a vampire, it may feel shorter, but they needn’t feel guilty for moving on. Keiji knows this. Despite the pain they’ve gone through, they still deserve happiness.

_I care about him, Koutarou. And I miss being able to hold someone. To spend time with someone in peace and comfort. Can I have that again?_

Of course, he receives no answer.

It’s only a few minutes before Yaku appears at the spring. He says something to Kenma, and the coven leader stands. Keiji curls his fingers into fists, as he watches the water drip down Kenma’s exposed pale skin. He wraps a towel around his waist, and follows Yaku inside.

Keiji turns away from the window, fighting to keep his composure. He changes and slips beneath the covers of the bed.

And if he dreams of tasting and touching that pale, exposed skin, he refuses to feel guilty for it.

 

 

***

 

 

“Okay! Here we are, _again_ , to sign this fucking peace treaty,” Futakuchi says, slamming the document on the table. “I spent all day typing this up on the resort computer because of _course_ Oikawa didn't give me the original file just handed me the stack of papers and sent me on my way, and of _course_ he won't pick up his phone on vacation. I _told_ him I didn't want this responsibility, but does he ever listen?" He rolls his eyes skyward before shaking his head. "But anyway, I included the changes, so we don’t have to go over the whole damn thing again.”

“Impatient to go home, Kenji?” Sugawara asks with an angelic smile.

“Aren’t we all?” Futakuchi asks, exasperated.

“I kinda like it here,” Kindaichi pipes up. “It’s peaceful.”

“When nobody is shooting arrows, at least,” Kunimi mutters, rolling his eyes.

Even Aone appears in agreement. Futakuchi throws his hands in the air.

“Fine! You all can stay here as long as you want, but I’d like to get my job done, _please_.”

Keiji stifles a smirk, as he approaches the head of the table. He meets Kenma’s gaze, as the two of them meet in front of the document. Kenma raises an eyebrow, something knowing in his look. Keiji suddenly wonders if he knows Keiji was spying on him last night.

He quickly turns his attention to the document, taking the proffered pen from Futakuchi. He goes through the document, initialing at the bottom of every page, and printing and signing his name on the last one. He hands the pen to Kenma then, stepping back to allow him to do the same.

Futakuchi steps forward to gather the papers when they’re done.

“Great. I’ll make copies of this, and everyone will get one when they leave for their records. If we have one of these summits again in the future, don’t ask me to preside over it again, okay? Thanks.”

He leaves the room, Aone on his heels. As the rest of the vampires stand and prepare to go, Keiji grabs Kenma’s elbow.

“Are you leaving immediately after the summit?” he asks softly.

Kenma hesitates. “That was our original plan.”

“Would you mind staying another hour?”

Kenma glances toward Yaku, before looking back at Keiji.

“Okay.”

He nods to Yaku, who appears exasperated but leaves with the rest. Keiji carefully takes Kenma’s hand, and when he doesn’t immediately pull away, he leads him out of the room.

“Remember when we used to stargaze?” Keiji asks, as they walk.

Kenma nods.

“We can’t really do that while we’re underground, but I thought we might find a quiet place to sit all the same.”

He leads them outside and makes his way toward the building where they’ve been staying. Instead of going inside, however, he releases Kenma’s hand and jumps straight upward to grab hold of the lowest balcony railing. He pulls himself up to stand on the railing, before jumping toward the next one up. Doing this, he makes his way up the five stories to the roof.

When he turns back around, he notices that Kenma didn’t follow him. He kneels down, holding his hand out to beckon to him.

Kenma wrinkles his nose. “Do I have to?”

Keiji raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you can’t?”

Irritation flickers across Kenma’s expression. Setting his jaw, he jumps to grab the lowest balcony, following Keiji’s route up the building. When he gets close, Keiji grabs his hand and hoists him the rest of the way up. Kenma settles down beside him, flicking a strand of hair out of his face.

“You still can’t resist a challenge,” Keiji says, knocking his shoulder against Kenma’s.

“You’re still annoying,” Kenma says, but there’s no malice in his tone.

They fall into comfortable silence for a moment, both looking out across the resort. Keiji can see workers carefully setting a new wall of glass into the building they just left. There are quite a few vampires talking and laughing at the onsen. Everything truly is peaceful. Keiji realizes that he has this to look forward to, now. A time without war. Without killing and destruction.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. “For signing the treaty.”

Kenma shoots him a glance. “I care about my people. It’s what was best for them.”

Keiji looks over. “And for you?”

Kenma looks down at their feet dangling over the edge of the building. “The war kept me occupied. I didn’t . . . have to think about what I lost. I think I was afraid that if we had peace, I’d just feel the absence of him that much stronger.”

Keiji reaches for his hand once more, lacing his fingers through them. “It’ll hurt,” he admits. “You’ll still notice everywhere he should be and isn’t. You’ll still find yourself thinking of him, wanting to talk to him, wanting to share experiences with him. But it gets easier, if you let it.”

He stares at the red teardrop on Kenma’s cheekbone. He wonders if he’ll ever rid himself of it. He supposes it doesn’t truly matter, in the end. He’ll remain by Kenma’s side no matter what.

Kenma gives Keiji’s hand a sudden, quick squeeze. “I guess I should thank you, too.”

Keiji tilts his head. “Oh?”

Kenma sighs, wrinkling his nose. “For . . . not holding my retaliation against me. For . . . believing there could be peace in the first place.”

“I hated being at odds with you,” Keiji admits.

Kenma hunches inward. “Me too.”

Deciding to be bold, Keiji leans over and kisses Kenma’s cheek, directly below that tear. Kenma grows still, and Keiji wonders if he overstepped. He doesn’t want to move forward too quickly. He knows there are calculations he must make, possible results he must consider.

Kenma turns to look at him, eyes searching. Keiji looks back at him, wondering what he’s looking for, and if he’ll find it. Slowly, Kenma lifts his hand, laying it against the side of Keiji’s face. Keiji leans into the touch instinctively and finds himself being pulled forward, even as Kenma leans closer.

The first touch of lips is feather-light. Kenma’s mouth brushes against Keiji’s, and instantly Keiji’s mind fills with possible scenarios and their outcomes. If he kisses him back, what will happen? Is this a wise choice in the midst of their current emotional turmoil? If he pulls away, however, will Kenma see it as rejection and fully close himself off to Keiji? And the fact remains that Keiji _does_ want this, despite the faint whisper of guilt that still tickles the back of his mind.

As though sensing his hesitation, Kenma slides his hand into Keiji’s hair, pulling him closer, as he kisses him again more firmly. Keiji realizes that he shouldn’t underestimate Kenma’s intellect. If he’s gone through the possible scenarios and has come to the conclusion that this is what he wants, then Keiji is more than willing to oblige. Especially since it’s something he wants, as well.

So he releases Kenma’s hand in order to slide his arm around the other vampire’s waist, pressing in as close as he can. He parts his lips, slotting them between Kenma’s, as he deepens the kiss. The sensation sends warmth through him, low embers glowing beneath his skin. He hasn’t kissed anyone since Koutarou, and he realizes how much he’s missed the feeling of intimacy that comes with the gesture.

Lifting his other hand, he cradles the side of Kenma’s neck, holding it gently, as he feels his desire surge forward. He nudges Kenma’s mouth open with his tongue, slipping it inside with a soft moan. It’s warm, warmer than Keiji expected. He wonders if Kenma drank not too long ago.

Kenma’s fingers curl into his hair, gripping the strands in a tight grasp. Keiji feels his tongue scrape against Kenma’s fangs, and, in a burst of what is probably stupidity, he shoves up against them. They pierce through the soft skin, and the pain is sharp, causing him to hiss. His blood pours into Kenma’s mouth, and he feels Kenma stiffen in surprise.

 _I overstepped. I should stop_.

Just as he’s thinking this, however, he feels Kenma’s lips constrict around his tongue. He shivers, as Kenma begins to suck on it, drawing more blood from it. The pleasure of Kenma’s venom, and the sensation of the suction, makes Keiji lightheaded. He strokes his thumb against the side of Kenma’s neck, moaning again.

After a moment, he pulls away, staring somewhat dazedly down at Kenma, with his blood staining the vampire’s lips. Kenma’s pupils are wide with hunger, and he licks his lips slowly with a bloody tongue. Keiji swallows hard, tasting the tang of his own blood in his mouth.

“Was that okay?” he asks softly, staring at Kenma’s lips and longing to taste them again.

Kenma nods. “More,” he murmurs, reaching for Keiji once more.

Keiji isn’t sure how long they sit there, tasting each other on their lips, their tongues, their teeth. His hand tangles in Kenma’s long hair, and he forces his head back, in order to press red stains down his neck with his mouth. Kenma whimpers softly, and Keiji aches. He bites down into Kenma’s neck, drinking deeply, while Kenma’s fingernails scrape against his scalp.

After a few seconds he pulls back, licking the wound and watching it close. When he lifts his eyes, Kenma is staring at him, lips parted, pupils still large.

“We shouldn’t keep Yaku waiting,” Keiji murmurs, wanting nothing more than to do just that.

Kenma’s lips quirk. “He can wait,” he says.

Keiji stops him, before he can lean in once more. He holds his neck steady, as he presses his forehead against Kenma’s, gently.

“We have to be rational about this,” he says, even as his body screams at him to forgo rationality. “We don’t want to move too quickly.”

Kenma pauses, his thumb stroking along Keiji’s temple. “I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he says. “I want this. I’ve . . . I’ve missed being close to someone.”

Keiji breathes a soft, unnecessary sigh. “I’ve missed it, too,” he admits.

“I have to return to Nekoma, and you have to return to Fukurodani. We’re not sure when we’ll see each other again.”

“That is . . . true.”

“If you want to wait, I will. But if you don’t . . .”

“This will mean something, to me.”

Kenma pulls back, frowning slightly. “You think it’ll mean nothing to me?”

Keiji studies him a moment. “I suppose not,” he admits.

“I might not be at the same level of affection as you, right now,” Kenma says, shaking his head. “But I don’t feel nothing for you. You mean a lot to me, too. I . . . care about you.”

Keiji looks into Kenma’s eyes. “If we proceed, I won’t be satisfied until we’re together. I will continue to pursue you.”

Kenma smirks. “Good.”

He brings Keiji close once more, and this time Keiji allows himself to give in completely. He gently guides Kenma back against the roof of the building, grateful for the solitude. His hunger grows sharp, potent, and he allows his baser instincts to take control.

Kenma’s blood fills his mouth, and his whimpers and soft cries fill Keiji’s ears. He loses himself in this sound, in this taste. His hands search for soft skin, grabbing hold when they find it, clutching tightly. He finds Kenma’s mouth again and again, spills his blood down Kenma’s throat.

And then, when they’re both ready, both aching, both trembling with want, he takes them in his hand and tugs them to completion.

Afterwards, he lies panting on top of Kenma, face buried in his soft neck. His head throbs from the many times Kenma yanked on his hair, but he finds he doesn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, he feels satisfied. Content.

Wiping his hand on the inside of his shirt, he pushes himself up to look down into Kenma’s face. It’s smeared with blood from Keiji’s lips, and his own lips are still parted, eyes closed. Very softly, Keiji brushes his mouth against Kenma’s.

“I will count the days until I see you again.”

Kenma snorts. “Another attempt at sentimentality?”

“Was it not sufficient?”

Kenma opens his eyes and allows a tiny smile. “It was.”

Keiji finds himself smiling in return, an expression that feels almost foreign.

It’s a new beginning, he realizes. A new era for not only Nekoma and Fukurodani, but for himself and Kenma, as well.

_This new chapter will bring happiness. To both of us._

_I promise._

**Author's Note:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
